Within Me
by Sifirela
Summary: To me, it is a release, something that coils around my soul and attempts to soothe the masochist in me.  My friends know nothing. I never tell them.


**Within Me  
>By Sifirela<strong>

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own anything. Characters used are property of their respected authors and creators. The song used belongs to Lacuna Coil and anyone who is affiliated with the band. I am only using for ENTERTAINMENT purposes. No profit is being made.

_**Note:**_ This is a companion story to _Saving Grace_. This also goes from one tense to the other. Starts off with present, and then leads off into past. Also it has a very abrupt ending. You have been warned. Enjoy.

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><p><em>Deep within me<br>Life's crawling and wasting my days  
>Another night gone and I know there will be another way<br>(Deep within me)  
>I'm leading myself to be free<br>In this eternal goodbye_  
><span>Within Me<span> —Lacuna Coil

I find it discomforting. Nobody will look my way. I'm merely a scapegoat to them because they can take out their pain and their frustration out on me. My pain has grown since then.

Has anybody looked my way?

No.

I doubt I will hear from them soon. They don't care.

They're tired of my unresponsive, sad face, they're tired of my deadpan eyes, and they're so tired of me always blaming them. But I hardly blame them, I blame myself. Myself-for being _so_ weak.

But it is so hard to live when you are the one guilty of this treason against yourself. Nobody can possibly understand the pain that has risen over me. I try very hard not to show the pain outwardly. It is the way I feel. Some say I do it for attention, and sure while the idea of attention is there, -I barely talk about it. I refuse to drone on about my private thoughts. What's the point?

My mind is blank now. Considering how long I have held on, I don't think it's possible for me to feel this pain anymore.

Each day is like a roller coaster, a ride that I want to get off, but it never ceases to stop. I've tried many ways to get out, to find myself, to get what I need in order to be stronger.

It doesn't work. I know that I am an idiot for doing this. But I also know that this is the only way out for me.

To me, it is a release, something that coils around my soul and attempts to soothe the masochist in me.

My friends know nothing. I never tell them. They always goad me into telling them what's on my mind, but as I don't want to hurt them, I give them a pleasant lie. That I'm okay, I'm wonderful – but what I'm really saying is – Please…please help me. Heal me.

But I don't want to hurt them. It would be too much.

It's funny how my life had taken a turn over the last few years. My Dad going out of town for the most part, leaving to fend for myself.

My Mom would be rolling in her grave now, cursing my father's name for leaving me alone in such a state.

But Dad doesn't know. He's too busy with his job, too busy being ignorant of me. I think at one time he had called me a burden.

Last year we had the worst fall out I've ever dealt with. We barely speak with each other on the phone. He merely asks me where I stay at now, instead of how I've been-so that he can wire me money. I don't want his money. I never did. If I was so much a burden, why would he care?

I sighed, looking up at the lovely, lonely night sky as I lay there. My arms throbbed from the infliction I brought them. The knife laid there, slightly stained with my shame.

I shook my head, and sat up, groaning. I don't know how long I had laid there. I wasn't keeping tabs on the time. My eyes closed, and my heart suddenly began to beat even harder. My nerves were shot. I picked myself up, cautious not to hurt my new festering wounds.

I heard my name called softly. I turned, seeing with horror the only person I did not want to see.

I turned my back to him, and glared out into the nightly sky. I forgot where I had been—now it came flooding all back to me. I was on my way to the grave site to pay my respects to a member of my family, and met up with one of my comrades in arms who were less than obvious to my pain. Our argument had soared, escalated into an almost flat out fist-fight and I came here to the park, thinking it would be safe to unleash my fury, my pain.

My mind clicked, and, now I found myself here, facing someone who could never possibly understand.

His thick brown hair waved in the wind, his sea-blue eyes worrisome. I hated that look—the look that told me I was wrong, I was the one to blame for everything. Thing is, _I knew that_ I was to blame.

"Hey," Cye said, looking at my wrists and then the knife I had just picked up. His lips formed an O before he pressed them thinly together.

"Hi." I said awkwardly, closing the knife and pocketing it in my back pocket. The shame that crept up caused me to mentally shudder.

He sighed, shaking his head. The frown still touched his lips, his face going from blatant worry to some relief and then anger. It was strange to see him go through such emotions in over a few seconds.

"Ryo," His mouth moved; fury in his eyes. "Why?" He asked, pointing to my bloody wrists. "What's the point?"

"You wouldn't understand." I replied angrily.

I wasn't so much as angry with him, but infuriated with myself because I chose to come here, the path Cye always took to go to his apartment. I put myself in this situation. Surprisingly, the anger shifted to the elated feeling that sparked only a fraction that he was there. On that whim, that hopeful, ever growing feeling that he possibly could understand my pain more than any of the others, I felt a happy jolt. But—I knew it was too good to be true.

Everyone I put my trust in has turned their back on me, scoffed at me, or left me alone in my own misery.

I sat on the bench that I had lay nearby and watched as Cye stood before me, ten feet away from me. He was looking at me with such a hurtful look. I thought for a moment perhaps he was hurt that I hurt myself. But then…perhaps there was more to it all.

My mind refused to even think on it. So very tired of thinking. My thoughts always failed to give me something comforting to rest my weary head.

"Ryo," He scoffed my name as if I were a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"You should know me by now." He replied, and I thought I heard a hint of regret and sadness in his voice. "This isn't like you."

"Then you should know me by now." I retorted. I don't know where this gruffness came from, I merely shrugged mentally. I guess I was tired.

"I do know you by now." He whispered. Cye took a hesitant step, but stopped as if he thought about it and stepped back. "But if you keep shrugging me off like some disease, I'm afraid that I won't know you anymore."

I sighed through my nose, reverting my eyes on the beautiful night sky, full of inky black dusted with flaring and dimming stars. My wrists hurt now; I could feel the once stagnant pain grow fervent. I looked back to answer Cye, whatever that came would suffice, even if I end the conversation in anger.

To my surprise, he was no longer there. In his place Kento stood, looking angry. I didn't have time to react even in the slightest when I felt his fist hit my cheek. I flew back onto my backside and skidded a few paces. I groaned, rubbing my cheek. Anger coursed through my body as I sprung back up.

My hands instinctively went up into a defensive stance. My cheek was throbbing just as much as my wrists.

"You sonuvabitch." Kento nastily said. His face was full of hatred. It stumped me. This was Kento we were talking about. How in the world could this person all of a sudden come at me like I was an enemy?

Perhaps I was.

"Kento." I said softly, putting down my hands and flexing them on my pants, wiping away the dirt and sweat that poured out.

He growled in frustration as I slacked off again. This wasn't what I wanted to do. What was the point in fighting with your own comrades? Sure, they didn't see what was going on in my head, nor did they see the pain that showed through mostly my eyes, but I did nothing to them. I only stayed away.

Just as fast as Kento came he disappeared. Everything went dark.

Myriads of disappointed faces appeared and disappeared in front of me like I was looking into a kaleidoscope.

_Burden_. A voice echoed in the kaleidoscope of images.

_Such a burden._

I'm not…am I?

_You shouldn't even live._

Please…

_Die…_

I don't want to!

_Kill yourself._

NO!

_They'll be happy._

No…

Stop it….

Please… No more.

Sheer panic now coursed through my whole being.

I wanted to scream, wanted to run. But something bound me to wherever I was. My scream and words were held back by some unknown force. I heard something yelling behind me, but it wasn't me…it was someone else in pain, more so than me it seemed.

My eyes snapped open, sitting up with a yell that I didn't know I had built up in my lungs. I was breathing hard like I ran a marathon.

A dream.

All a dream.

I checked my wrists, and rubbed my cheek where it still felt as if Kento had hit me. But nothing appeared to be out of place.

Relief flooded through me just as tears started to flow down my cheeks.

Damn it. It was too much. Everything we worked so hard was falling and we were so close in trying to stop it. I wasn't so sure anymore. The stress of trying to save the planet as much as keeping a normal life was hard as it was…but this enemy knew how to tear us apart. Mentally and physically.

I noticed that daylight was slowly filtering into my room between the cracks of the closed curtains. I stood up, ready to start the day, ready to leave behind the hellish nightmares that seemed to plague me when I rested.

I hoped for the sake of everyone, this feeling of dread would go away. But I know…that this is just the beginning.

I can only hope the others are prepared…I know I'm not.

End.


End file.
